


frankenstein would want your mind

by unveils



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Character Study, Disturbing Themes, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 12:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7640839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unveils/pseuds/unveils
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here is the end of this story: You are not a girl, but a monstrous thing.</p>
<p>Here is the end of this story: Even monsters fall in love.</p>
<p>Here is the end of this story: You fell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	frankenstein would want your mind

Here is the end of this story: You are not a girl, but a monstrous thing.

Here is the end of this story: Even monsters fall in love.

Here is the end of this story: You fell.

 

//

 

 

Matsuda Yasuke does not cry when they wheel his mother from the last house on the lane in a body bag, and that, in and of itself, is everything. His shoulders are steady with the weight of the hands that fall to them, and his eyes are stark-dry and clear when he meets your own across the stretches of caution tape and sprays of the red-blue police sirens.

(“What about the father?”

“Out of town, apparently.”)

Later, in the dark of the neighborhood’s park, you’ll untangle a ribbon from the blonde of your hair and lock your wrists together with it. He’ll look at you with those eyes, sparked so suddenly with something unreadable, and you’ll smile, all teeth.

“You stupid girl,” He’ll say, with a voice that wavers. “You stupid girl, with your stupid gestures. What-- _what_ could you possibly--”

You let the ribbon sway between the small space of your hands. Silence spreads, and wind picks up.

You lean into his side.

“Even if you lost something today -- you gained something, too, you know.”

He says nothing, but takes your fingers in his own.

 

//

 

Here is the beginning of this story: You killed her.

Here is the beginning of this story: You wormed your way into the hospital room and pulled the plug.

Here is the beginning of this story: Matsuda Yasuke is yours, and yours alone.

 

//

 

You’ve dreamt of the way he’d kiss you -- lily-white hands wrapped in the thick of you, dipped heavy into the tangle of veins that make up your heart. You’ve dreamt of the way he’d approach you with a broken look in his eyes, control snapped like a band broken. You’ve dreamt and you’ve dreamt and now, as it happens, you feel as if you could fly. Tears fly to your eyes as laughter bubbles in your throat.

He thinks he knows.

He thinks he knows.

He thinks he knows.

This is the climax of the story.

“If I don’t do this, I’ll never escape my own despair.”

For a moment, you are just a girl.

For a moment, you are his.

And then you are monstrous once more.

The knife handle slips into your hand as easily as it was always meant to, and you cut into him with a scream of a laugh-cry. He goes down to the floor in a slip of blood and pain, and you follow him to your knees with a smile. He grapples onto your hand.

“Was any of it --”

He thinks he knows.

“Was any of it real -- Enoshima Junko, tell me…”

Stupid boy. Stupid boy. Stupid boy.

Your voice is candy sweet, and you don’t wait for an answer.

“Do you want to know?”

Here is the climax of this story: He thinks he knows.

Here is the climax of this story: You let him sink into the darkness with a misconception that breaks his carefully handled control.

You grasp at the chin of him, you grasp and you squeeze until there are harsh indents of red on his cheeks.

How _couldn’t_ it have been real --

“Are you fucking _stupid?_ You think I would do all of this for you?”

The last bit of life he has goes to the way the light in the eyes snaps out like a broken light bulb.

“None of it was real. You’re nothing to me.”

His hand slips from your own.

“Die, already.”

You think, in that moment, you die a bit, too.

 

//

 

Here is the beginning of this story: You carve a castle of sand with the hands of a god -- slave over it until the skin of your palms are weak and soft. Mukuro watches with a careful gaze as the skin of your knees blooms red to an ugly purple for the kneeling. The neighborhood children turn to look, after a while, when the castle becomes bigger than your head, bigger than your body, bigger than anything they’ve ever seen. It is your modus operandi. It is your everything.

Here is the beginning of this story: When the castle meets its end, you are in shambles. Your knees are skinned clean, your fists at your side among the rubble of sand. Tears rattle and shake ugly down the red of your cheeks as you sob and throw a fit, Mukuro standing dutifully beside you with a hand placed awkwardly at the small of your back.

“I just -- don’t know -- who could have -- done this --”

Here is the beginning of this story: It was you who’d ruined it. Convinced some boy from the park to pull Mukuro’s attention while you tore down your empire. You’d bashed through the walls on a whim with a blank face and dead eyes, tore down everything You’d worked so hard to build just for the way it caused your breath to catch, your eyes to well with tears.

Your work, in shreds. Your work, destroyed. Gone. Nothing. Nothing.

Nothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothing.

Here is the beginning, and the end of this story: You are not a girl, but a monstrous thing.

And you are the one who builds yourself up to destroy what you’ve created.

**Author's Note:**

> s/o to my favorite fucked up dangans who don't get enough love from this fandom


End file.
